


Whisper

by poisoninthewater



Category: Breaking Bad, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: AU, Gen, Post-Felina, Supernatural Elements, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:41:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisoninthewater/pseuds/poisoninthewater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse finds himself in possibly the worst place for someone suffering from paranoia and PTSD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whisper

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit spoilers for the finale of Breaking Bad, so seriously don't read this if you haven't seen it yet.

_Ladies and gentlemen, several of you may have noticed the new forest that has formed just to the east of Night Vale. It’s hard to say how these dense, piney woods have cropped up in a vast desert wastescape, nor how they have grown in only a couple of days, but these woods are encroaching quickly on our little town. Botanists from Night Vale Community College said that this beautiful, lush woodland is called the Whispering Forest, and that while lovely, should not be approached._

_Officials from the Night Vale Parks Department agreed with this sentiment in a prepared statement wherein they just wrote the word ‘no’ on a single piece of paper, but with hundreds of Os and maybe two dozen Ns, so it reads kind of like, ‘Nnnnnooooooooooooooooo.’ Or maybe it’s more of an echo-y scream. It’s hard to say; they did not include stage directions in their press release. What we do know is this: there is a whispering forest just outside of town, and it should not be approached under any circumstances._

***

The engine is so loud in his ears that it could almost drown out all the shit that's rattling in his brain. A goodbye that was so huge he just couldn't say anything at all because it pressed on him so heavy he couldn't breathe and for who knows how fuckin long he thought about that asshole dying and about getting out and about Brock but the whole world feels too big and too small at the same time, pressing down on him like it's going to crush him to nothing but bloody slush on the side of the road and -

He has to pull over, the sound of tires screeching on the pavement making him grit his teeth. He can't breathe, he can't see, it's all running together and his heart is going to tear itself apart. He's out, he's free, Todd's dead and Jack's dead and Mr. White's dead, everyone who had their fuckin hooks in him is dead and Mr. White's dead and he's free and he doesn't know where to go. He can't unclench his teeth, has to rip his hands from the steering wheel because they're wrapped around it so tight they hurt, everything hurts, every muscle rigid and shaking. He tries to breathe, gulping shaky, shallow breaths that aren't enough, nothing is enough because he spent so long thinking about this moment but now that he's here all there is is this big black hole in front of him and it's screaming "What now?"

Brock, he thinks, but it's so stupid that he hates himself for even thinking of him, because there's no money and no house and even if there were Jesse doesn't know where to find him, doesn't know if he's in a foster home, doesn't even know how far this car will take him and _what now_? There's all this pressure in his head and he cries until he can't anymore, ugly sobs erupting out of him, disappearing into the black sky. He watches the stars and it feels like the first time he's ever seen them.

He exits off 40 for 64 and things get fuckin weird.

The black of the desert night, starry and moonless, lightens. Slowly. Barely. But soon the sky is hazy and heavy and the radio doesn't pick up anything but static and one station that just plays what sounds like babies screaming, except it's slowed down so they sound more like demons moaning and it's too close to how Jesse feels so he turns it off. A few minutes later the radio turns back on, louder than before, the same sounds and he jumps so violently he jerks the steering wheel and the car weaves into the other lane. He starts hitting buttons on the stereo until he finds the control for the CD player and some shitty country music is jangling in his ears but it's so much better than what's on the radio. What the fuck kind of radio station plays shit like that? His heart is still hammering in his chest, the shock of the sound still ringing in his ears.

When the car passes the purple and black sign on the side of the highway that says "Welcome to Night Vale," the gauges all fall down to zero, the interior lights turn off and the car glides to a stop. He has a death grip on the steering wheel again, screaming at it through his teeth as he turns the key again and again, "Come on come on come on, bitch!" But the car just clicks back at him every time he tries and he thinks he may as well dig a grave here because without money he's just fuckin stuck.

He opens the trunk to look for some jumper cables just in case someone happens to roll by at like two in the morning. There's a set of cables in a net at the front, but as he's ready to close the trunk, he catches a glimpse of a black duffel bag, tucked away in the back, sitting in the shadows, almost invisible.

He knows what he wants to see in that bag and he holds his breath, afraid to make a sound like just one whisper might make it not true. He reaches for the bag, clutches the strap and hauls it toward him, the weight dragging along, the zipper sticking as he tries to open it.

"Shit," he says, a long exhale rising up in the cold air. "Shit, shit, _yes_ , fuck yes." Stacks of money, Mr. White's money, are lying in the bag, and he jolts at the thought of everything that made this money, the thought of Mr. White, again, still right there over his shoulder even though he's -

He rips a few bills out of one of the stacks and shoves them in his pocket, zips the bag back up and opens the spare tire well, covers it up. Maybe he'll be back for it. Maybe he'll get this piece of shit towed and fixed and maybe he won't.

He starts walking, walking toward the town in front of him, this town he's never heard of, this town that plays fucking demon noises on the radio and has a soft, weird glow that makes him want to run the other way but keeps pulling him forward.

The highway turns into a city street and soon he's standing in front of a diner, shining pale green in the starless, hazy night. _Moonlite All-Nite Diner_ , the sign says, curvy fake 50's letters spelling out the name in neon that's trying to look friendly and inviting but just makes him feel sick. He's nauseous but starving, doesn't want to think too hard about food but doubts he'll be able to keep walking if he doesn't eat.

It's like all the cheesy retro diners he's been to but not, weird little things that are just wrong. The chime hanging from the door rings when he goes in, but it sounds more like a rattlesnake than a bell. The pies on the counter are too cheerful, like this fake bright technicolor that smashes into the fluorescent lights, hammers into his eyeballs and his brain. He sits down and looks at a menu, tries to think about pancakes and all the other shit you're supposed to think about when you're at a diner. He decides on a burger but when the waitress comes to take his order he just tells her strawberry pie and water. He knows he's a mess, probably looks like some homeless dude and probably doesn't smell too great either, but she writes on her notepad like nothing is wrong. The words she says don't make any sense to him, and she makes some weird gesture with her hands that looks like it might be some kind of threat, but her face is normal, like she's just giving him information in a code that he somehow has the key to, something that's completely routine for the two of them, and then she walks away.

The place is mostly empty but he feels like he's sticking out anyway, feels eyes on him, his heart racing like he just took a bump of crystal, everything crowding in around him and making panic rise up in his gut again, deep and terrifying when the waitress comes back and sets his plate and glass down. The clink that the dishes make against the table and the scrape of the fork against the plate are normal sounds in a normal diner. Everything's fine. He's alive.

Except the pie is tasteless, like he knew it would be. He stops thinking, goes on autopilot while eyes are watching him from all directions, while the seeds crunch under his teeth, food sliding down his throat exactly the way it's supposed to. He ignores the creepy Indian guy a few booths away from him, staring at him and saying something in some language the Jesse doesn't even recognize, ignores the look on his face like Jesse should understand what he's saying.

He wonders if the guy recognizes him, remembers seeing him on a DEA poster or something. Jesse doesn't have anywhere to go really, but he wants to leave now because this guy just won't _stop_. He sits there with his eyes looking all around the place, anywhere but at the guy. Sometimes he'll pause for a few seconds and from the corner of his eye, Jesse can see him looking expectantly at him. The little bit of silence he gets is even more uncomfortable than when the guy is talking to him. He's waiting for the waitress to bring the check, keeps trying to get her attention but she looks just as crazy as the weird guy, looking like she's concentrating on something even though her eyes are closed, making the same weird movements and he's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"Yo, can I get the check?" he says, loudly, and all the eyes he feels on him, eyes from all over the place even though it's just him and the crazy guy and the waitress and the cook, all the eyes just stab right into him, make him shiver. He's looking at the waitress, who's giving him a look like he's an idiot or an asshole or maybe both. "I just ... I just need my bill." She doesn't move, doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at him for a few seconds and then closes her eyes again. "What -" Jesse starts to say, then stops himself.

The crazy guy clears his throat and Jesse looks back at him. He is holding his water glass up to his mouth and hissing something into it, his eyes still on Jesse like he's trying to show him something. Jesse's mouth is hanging open and he just wants to scream at the dude to speak fuckin English or leave him the fuck alone. The guy looks annoyed and picks up his own check, where the fuck did he even _get_ that, then just starts pointing to the little container of sugar packets that are on his table before giving up, and putting his money and check under the sugar, standing up and leaving.

Jesse waits until the guy's out of the parking lot before folding up one of the hundreds he took from the bag in the car, sticking it under the sugar packets and bolting out of the restaurant.

He's never heard of this town before and he wonders if it's always this weird or if it's just that it's like three in the morning and that's when the weirdos are out and apparently running and hanging out in diners. He's still freaking out, hoping that guy isn't calling the DEA or the cops, not that they could understand him if he did but maybe they could put him through to a translator or something.

He keeps walking, kind of looking for a motel but kind of not, just walking even though it hurts because he just doesn't want to stay still. He feels like wherever he goes in this place he'll be watched and he can't sleep like that, can't sleep with eyes needling their way into him. Can't sleep remembering. Just can't sleep. If he keeps walking he'll come out of the other side of this place, leave the city, leave the state and everything in it behind him.

On his left are these dark woods, trees and grass in the middle of a desert town where everything is rocks and sand. He shoves his hands into his pockets, balls the car keys up in his fist, ignores the money - Mr. White's money, shit, that should be going to his wife and his kids - and keeps walking. He is shaking, sweat running down his face, fear settling into his bones and there is nowhere to hide out here from the people watching him, nowhere but the forest but it's so dark inside, and his legs are weak and he's trying to breathe when he hears a voice drift past his ear. It sighs, "You have such a resilient spirit," and he turns around, his eyes darting around but there's nothing there, just an empty street and the trees. "And you look great," the voice adds.

"What the fuck," he's whispering over and over to himself, gripping the keys so hard they feel like they're scraping right up against his bones. "Who the fuck's following me?" he yells into the night, his voice bursting out into the air and just absorbing into it. There's no one around. There's no one to say anything back. He's ready to run back to the car, run all the way there and just stay until the sun comes up but the voice, high and soft, whispers again.

"Come hang out with us," it says, "we'll never do anything to hurt you. You have beautiful eyes and your beard makes you look so rugged and handsome."

Jesse's hands go still and his muscles relax. There's this little ball of heat in his chest that's slowly taking over the cold and the fear he felt just a second ago and suddenly it doesn't really matter that there's nowhere for him to hide here. He doesn't need anywhere to hide. The trees are dark but inviting and everything they're saying feels like hands holding him up, pulls him closer and he spent so much time running away from everything and from himself, but he's fine, he's safe, he looks great and his eyes are beautiful.

"We love you," the voice says as he takes the first step toward the trees and he could just fall down into the grass and remember that forever, and the voice says it again. "We love you," it says and he takes another step, and another and the dark tangle of branches and roots swallows him up. He could forget here, forget the meth and murder and money and everything, he thinks as he sinks down to the cool, soft grass, his back against the trunk of a tree. The dirt beneath him is rich and dark and beautiful, gets up under his fingernails and seems to pull him down as the voice says, "Can we be friends? You never have to be lonely here."

***

_According to Simone Rigodeau, from the Earth Sciences building at Night Vale Community College, the Whispering Forest is a place where we can all plunge our feet and hands into the cool, soft soil, allowing our fingers and toes to grow and spiral into the earth, quickly and deeply intertwining with themselves, each other, snaking in and through a complex organic network to become one. In the Whispering Forest, everyone is one. Everything. They share each other now._

**Author's Note:**

> Excerpts at the beginning and end are from the WTNV episode "The Whispering Forest."


End file.
